


in search of the words

by dustyveins



Series: for every atom belonging to me [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Walt Whitman poems as a declaration of love, can read as a stand alone, quiet moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyveins/pseuds/dustyveins
Summary: Bucky reads to Steve, in one lifetime and then another.  Steve just likes to listen.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: for every atom belonging to me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809766
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	in search of the words

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge shout out to [Kyra](https://twitter.com/deviiscrime) for humoring me through all of my ideas.
> 
> Title from _[If I Were a Ship](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRU0qBUYSKs)_ by Hey Ocean! Do people still do recommended listening? If so, there you go. If not... pretend I didn't just date myself with that one.
> 
> Thank you, hope you like it!

Bucky is reading on the couch when Steve comes in. The dusk light comes soft through the windows, painting the room in soft shades of gold. The light looks different out here, filtering through the trees. They didn't have trees to contend with, growing up.

"Hey," he says, smiling. "What're you reading?"

Bucky lifts the book, flashing the cover at Steve. _Leaves of Grass_ again. Steve pulls off his shoes and pads over to the couch, leaning over a little to see which poem he's reading.

"That was always my favorite," Steve says. "You used to read it to me, remember?"

"I remember," Bucky says, voice soft in that way it gets when he says one thing and means another. Steve sits down next to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. Bucky inhales slowly and then lets it out again, measured. "I mean, I think I do. Can you… Would you tell me about it?"

And Bucky gets nervous like this sometimes, like he's scared he'll say the wrong thing and Steve will leave, and Steve wants to take that fear and put it as far from them as possible. So he nods, and he smiles, and he lets himself lean a little further into Bucky's side, and he tells him.

\--

The sunset paints the whole room orange-gold as Bucky walks in the door. Steve's been sitting cross legged on the couch, sketchbook open across his lap, sketching their neighborhood on and off all day, waiting for Bucky to get back.

Bucky goes first to the sink, wetting his hands and running them through his hair so it falls more loosely about his face, and Steve forces himself to look away; flips to a new page and can't seem to draw anything but the curl of hair hanging just above Bucky's left eyebrow.

Bucky settles heavily in the arm chair, kicks his socked feet up onto the couch cushion next to Steve and nudges at Steve's knee with his toes. Steve scowls and shoves lightly at Bucky's calf and Bucky laughs, bright and warm.

"Whatcha drawin', Stevie?" Bucky asks, and Steve watches carefully from the corner of his eye as Bucky undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. He shrugs.

"Not much," he says. "Hard to draw today."

"Oh? Everything alright?" Bucky asks, because he knows Steve almost better than he knows himself. It's been a year since Steve's Ma passed, but Bucky always knows when it's bothering him particularly.

"Guess so. Just thinking."

"Must be tough," Bucky says. "Working your brain so hard, that is."

Steve scowls again, but he ruins it quickly by laughing.

"You would know," Steve says.

"Hey! I'm plenty smart! I read!"

"Sure you do," Steve teases, knowing exactly what he's doing.

"I'll read you something right now," Bucky says, practically throwing himself from his seat. Steve ducks his head to hide a pleased smile, pretending to be once again engrossed in his sketchbook.

"Don't hurt yourself."

" _Don't hurt myself_ ," Bucky mocks. "I think you're confused, pal, I've always been the brains of this duo."

"Thought you said you were the looks," Steve shoots back, willing the pink from his cheeks. He looks up at Bucky and finds him silhouetted by the light coming through the window, glowing as he examines the bookshelf.

"I am a man of many talents," Bucky says, and then, "Aha! Got it."

He comes quickly back to his seat, getting comfortable again before he opens the book, paging through it quickly like he knows exactly what he's looking for.

"What're you gonna read?" Steve asks. He thinks his heart might beat out of his chest, tries to swallow it down without messing up the pattern of his breathing.

" _Song of Myself_ ," Bucky says, holding up the book with the pages out so Steve can see.

"That's my favorite," Steve says, barely sparing a glance at the book or any of the things scribbled in the margins. This is one of Bucky's favorite books, and Steve's seen him writing in it more than once. Sometimes, he wonders about the thoughts Bucky has, how he feels about the poems he reads to Steve. Why he picks the ones that he does.

"I know," Bucky says. "Now be quiet and let me read."

Steve smiles, and watches, and listens.

" _I celebrate myself, and sing myself, / And what I assume you shall assume, / For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you_ ," Bucky says, and the tension bleeds from Steve's shoulders. Bucky's voice floats over him like a warm breeze, and it's like it guides his hand as he starts to sketch once again; the curve of Bucky's lips around the words, the delicate way he holds the book, the trail of skin revealed by his undone collar.

He feels overcome, overwhelmed, and the sun has just about fully gone by time Bucky finishes reading.

\--

In the present moment, Bucky watches Steve carefully. It's the look he gives when he's not sure something is real or a trick of his mind. It's the face he makes when he wakes up thinking he's still the Soldier.

"What?" Steve asks.

"Just… Didn't think that one was real. Why would you want to listen to me talk for so long?"

"Want to know a secret?" Steve asks, playful. Bucky nods. "That one was always my favorite because it meant you'd read to me for an hour, because you could never put it down once you started. I liked to listen."

"Really?" Bucky asks, his face scrunching.

"Really. And, when you read that line, right at the beginning. _For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you,_ it always felt like I wrote it to you. Everything in me belonged to you."

"I don’t… I don't own you," Bucky says, wary.

"No," Steve says, reasonably. "But, I wanted you to have everything anyway. I wanted to give that to you."

"Oh," Bucky says. Steve smiles.

"Hey, would it be okay if I kiss you?" Steve asks. Bucky smiles, his cheeks dusting pink.

"You don't have to ask every time," Bucky says.

"Maybe I just like hearing your answer," Steve says. He can't rein in the smile that spreads across his face. "I like to know that you'd choose me."

"I always would. I have," Bucky says.

"And you get to choose every day. Forever. Or, as long as you want."

"Then yes," Bucky says. "I choose yes. This time and every time. Forever. That's as long as I want."

Steve, unbelievably charmed, leans forward and kisses Bucky softly, pulling away only to push their foreheads together. He raises a hand to rest on the back of Bucky's neck.

"I think I can manage that," Steve says. Bucky's quiet for a moment, and Steve can only just see the way he smiles shyly before he speaks.

"I could read it to you again if you'd like."

"I would like that a lot, pal," Steve says.

\--

In 1937, Bucky finishes the poem by dim lamplight.

" _You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,_ " Bucky says and Steve thinks, _I will always know you, no matter where or what or who you become. I will always know you._

\--

In the present, blanketed in the warm glow of the reading lamp, Bucky says, " _Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, / Missing me one place search another, / I stop somewhere waiting for you._ "

And Steve looks at him, and looks, and looks, and he thinks, _thank you for waiting._

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_sneganno) or [tumblr](https://sourbottlebaby.tumblr.com) and chat with me about marvel and/or longing.


End file.
